


Jezza

by lamuella



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: Childhood, Coming of Age, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1913397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamuella/pseuds/lamuella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking his first steps away from an uncaring father and spoiled siblings, Jeremy has a long journey to make to get to university, and a lot of decisions about who he wants to be.  Does he want his new uni friends to meet Jeremy?  Or would he rather be someone else?</p>
<p>All characters property of their respective owners, i claim no ownership or rights.  Any similarity of minor characters to famous British comedians is purely incidental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jezza

“Bloody hell, Jellybelly, is this thing full of doughnuts?” Seb called as he hoisted the trunk into the back of the Volvo estate.

“Dad told you not to call me that,” Jeremy warned.

“Jeremy, don't fight with your brother. It's the last time you'll see him until Christmas,” his father interjected. “You should be grateful he's helping you load your luggage.”

“I didn't ask him to,” Jeremy grumbled, but then felt the familiar tug of obligation. “Thanks for giving me a hand, Seb.”

“No problem, Jellybelly, I didn't want to see you huff and puff as you tried to hoist this yourself.”

“Dad!”

“Time to go,” Alfred Reed said, showing no sign of wanting to defuse the fight between his sons. “The train leaves in forty minutes and you need to be on it, Jeremy. That ticket's non-refundable.”

Seb gave him a mocking wave and Jeremy got in the passenger seat. The fifteen minute journey to Chichester station passed without conversation. Jeremy had long since learned that the most he got if he spoke to his father while the man was driving was a stern look. When they got to the station, his father pulled into the drop off area rather than the car park. No long drawn out goodbyes then.

“I'd drive you to Cambridge myself but I have a meeting this afternoon,” his father said.

“I'll be fine, Dad,” Jeremy replied.

“I'm sure. Well, better get your things, I can't wait here all day.”

Jeremy got out and pulled the suitcase and the wheeled trunk out of the back of the Volvo. He dumped them on the pavement, closed the back and started hauling his luggage away.

“Jeremy!”

He turned back. “Yes, Dad?”

“When you get to Cambridge, don't take a taxi. It's a short walk to Emmanuel and you could do with the exercise.”

With that he drove off. That was Alfred Reed's parting gift to his son as he set out to university. Not pride at Jeremy getting into Cambridge, not best wishes, but a dig about his weight. _Another_ dig about his weight. Jeremy had lost two stone since the end of his A-levels, but he'd have to lose a limb before his dad would notice.

He heaved the cases up and staggered towards the ticket barrier. After the train to London Victoria he'd have to get these awkward bloody things down the stairs, onto the tube, then back up at King's Cross. And then of course walk a mile through a city he didn't know to get to a college he'd been to exactly once before. Piece of piss, really. Much easier than rearranging a meeting so you could take your son to university and show a glimmer of compassion for once in your life. But then, Alfred Reed had always been generous with other people's time and effort.

The train was pretty close to full, so Jeremy sat on his trunk for the first leg of the journey. Dad hadn't even chided Seb for the Jellybelly insult. Not that the rules being changed for the golden child was much of a surprise. Seb had been back from uni since June and Jeremy was already sick of him. Not so much because his behaviour was obnoxious – although it was – as because his actions demonstrated the double standards of the Reed house. Seb sleepwalked his way to a 2:2 in economics from Aston and Dad secured him a position at a brokerage firm who owed him a favour. Jeremy got four As and a B at A level, thus getting himself a place at Cambridge, and his father's only comment was to ask how Jeremy had messed up his Further Maths exam. As far as Jeremy Reed was concerned he was well shot of West Wittering. The start of term at Cambridge couldn't have come soon enough.

As he hauled his cases off the train and tried to work out if he was too polite to use the lift to the underground station, Jeremy cursed himself for not being in shape. Stress eating had always been his downfall, hence the childhood nickname of Jellybelly. It was a name that stuck for a while even after he had lost the weight, probably because his brothers thought his anger at its use was so funny. When he had piled on the weight during his A-Levels, going through Jaffa Cakes and Chocolate Hobnobs quicker than he went through pages of revision notes, Seb and Giles had brought Jellybelly back full force, even making a “Congratulations, Jellybelly” banner on Results Day. If there was one thing Jeremy could say for certain it was that he wouldn't be Jellybelly once he got to Cambridge.

The question, though, was what _would_ he be? The natural choice was Jeremy, but that was a name that had always sounded like a teddybear in a scarf and a red jumper rather than a person. Or at best that hairy little creep from the prank TV shows. Jerry was even worse, swapping the teddybear reference for a cartoon mouse.

Seb had been Sebastian until the age of 18, coming home at Christmas with the new name along with a staggering amount of laundry that needed doing. He had just announced to the family as he came through the door that everyone at uni called him Seb and he wouldn't answer to anything else. Within a day even Dad was using the new name. Jeremy needed something similar, a name based on his old one but something that was as far from Jellybelly as possible.

Jezza. That was it. Jezza was cool, Jezza was assertive. Jezza didn't have rumours spread about him that he'd wet the bed until he was twelve. First thing he'd do when he got to Cambridge was introduce himself to people as Jezza. Once his new friends started using it surely his family would follow.

That was, if he ever made any new friends. With a few exceptions Jeremy had never been great at the friendship thing. There were kids who liked him okay at school and hung around with him but he didn't get invited to stuff at evenings or on the weekends. When he was ten, a girl in his class had given him an invitation to her birthday party with the words “My mum is making me give one of these to everyone in class, but if you come to my party I'll kick you in the bollocks.” Jeremy's parents had insisted he go to the party. The girl had proven good to her word.

Besides, giving yourself a nickname never really worked. At best people adopted it grudgingly. At worst it just made you look weird. One of Jeremy's only real friends in secondary school was a tall gangly boy called Stephen. Seb had once joked that he and Jeremy hanging around together looked like the number ten. After the summer holidays when they went into year nine together, Stephen had come up to him and said “Nobody's calling me Stephen any more, Jeremy. Everyone's calling me Spud.” It became clear that “everyone” didn't include anybody who went to their school, and Stephen was Stephen for all the time that Jeremy knew him.

Still, that wouldn't happen with Jezza, would it? If you introduce yourself by a name, that's the name you have as far as the new person was concerned. If he told a newcomer he was Jezza then Jezza is what he would be. The thought of becoming someone else was more than attractive to him. It was almost intoxicating.

He walked slowly through Cambridge, as Hills Road became Regent Street. It was a beautiful city, at once ancient and entirely new to him. It was a fresh start, he could be himself here. All he needed to do was to decide who that was.

When he got to New Court at Emmanuel College he was directed to “Y11”, a second floor room smaller than his bedroom at home. Still, it had one major advantage over his bedroom at home, and that was its distance from his bloody father.

There was a knock on his open door, and he turned to see two other first years standing there. They had to be first years, nobody else had that mix of nervousness and fake confidence.

“Hi,” said the one who knocked, a short skinny chap with glasses. “We're your neighbours. I'm John.”

“Richard,” continued the other first year, who was taller and whose hair was much less in control. “There's four of us on this floor and Matt's already gone down to the bar, so you must be Jeremy.”

Jeremy opened his mouth to correct them, to say that everyone called him Jezza, but deep down he knew that Jezza had been a fantasy, a dream that wasn't really even his. “That's right,” he replied. Nice to meet you.”

“Look, we're just heading down to the college bar,” John said. “I know you'll need time to unpack but you'd be welcome to join us later.”

“Oh, I'll head down now,” Jeremy replied, maybe a little too quickly. “I can unpack later, I mean.”

Richard smiled. “All right, then.”

They chatted as they headed down the stairs and out into the college grounds. Richard and John were both big comedy fans and planned to try and join Footlights while they were at Cambridge. They were wild, energetic, and funny, but their humour seemed to be at and around themselves rather than at anyone else's expense. Jeremy's major experience of jokes was being the butt of them, thanks to Seb.

“So what about you, Jeremy?” Richard asked. “What do you want to do with your life?”

Jeremy shrugged and took a sip of his pint. “Meet a few nice girls. Become a doctor. Live as far away from my dad as I can.”

John nodded. “Bit of a wanker, is he?”

“More than a bit. He's about three and a half wankers.”

Richard and John both laughed, and Jeremy was filled by a surprising warm glow. It was nice to hear laughter because you said something funny, not because someone thought you were ridiculous.

He drained his pint. “I'm going to the bar. Either of you want another?”

Jeremy headed to the bar with an order for three pints. As he was waiting, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and saw a stunning girl in cargo pants and a crop top, with butterfly clips in her blonde hair.

“Sorry if this is forward,” she said. “But it's fresher's week, and if I can't say hi to a cute boy during Fresher's week when can I? Hi, I'm Pippa, what's your name?”

All thoughts of Jezza gone from his mind, Jeremy Reed smiled. Cambridge was going to be fun.

 


End file.
